


The Dark Parade

by orphan_account



Category: Vainglory (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Adagio lounged in the eye socket of his long-dead ancestor. His fist curled under his chin as he gazed downward at his guests — or he might have been napping. Behind him, a parade of people and creatures curled down the cervical vertebrae of the dragon: supplicants, rulers, politicians and chiefs who’d come to beg for his attention or affection.





	The Dark Parade

**Author's Note:**

> I can't find this story anywhere but [here,](https://brokenmyth.net/wiki/heroes/adagio/attachment/1429136624846) it was deleted from Vainglory's official website at some point(?) and because it's an image I decided to type everything out. Enjoy.

Along sun-bleached bones, stoppered jars hung on silver wire, each imprisoning a single enraged fire faerie, its glowing belly providing romantic light. Chained harpies crouched at the perimeter, beating their wings to provide a breeze. Servants dressed as ravens slid silently among the guests, sweeping up errant feathers and the other unmentionable messes expected of birds, the animal totem of that year’s Dark Parade. Musicians played all manner of stringed and wind instruments as the guests danced in the shadows of the ancient elder dragon skeleton.

Adagio lounged in the eye socket of his long-dead ancestor. His fist curled under his chin as he gazed downward at his guests — or he might have been napping. Behind him, a parade of people and creatures curled down the cervical vertebrae of the dragon: supplicants, rulers, politicians and chiefs who’d come to beg for his attention or affection. Each wore feathered couture designed for the occasion: the gentlemen mirrored a bare-chested fashion inspired by Adagio himself.

“Behold! Gnottingham Catchfly the Third, Lord of Starlight, He of the Two Moons, Ruler of the Night Blossoms…” called the announcer as a Bleekos king and his contingent filed in atop their giant shining beetles. Their magic show unraveled full of spilled moonbeams and cricket song, after which the king’s best orators presented their quandary with much flourish.

“He doesn’t wish to take sides in your border dispute, but you can leave your gifts with the others,” said a psychic little girl in a sing-song voice. She played with dolls on the floor, her face hidden behind long black hair. Adagio had not yet turned his eyes toward his petitioners; instead, he projected his thoughts to the girl, who spoke for him. “Next!” she called, and the Bleekos were ushered out to join the festivities.

Adagio did not attempt to conceal his wide yawns. For millennia he had hosted these parades in hopes of discovering something new but found only the same tedious struggles over power, resources and love.

“Behold! Prince Cuthb…”

The announcer was interrupted by a woman’s voice calling up from what had been the low belly of the dragon.

“Adagio the Immortal,” she cried, “I have come to make a request!”

She snapped her fingers and everything stopped.

The dancers froze. Bows halted on strings. Whatever niceties, threats or pleas had passed between guests silenced. The little girl, too, stalled with her dolls in her hands. What had been a hot night turned chill.

The gray witch wound her way through the decadence toward Adagio. Her eyes, hair and somber dress were the ashen color of the sea sky in winter, but she appeared young. Adagio, still lazing, had not been frozen like the others.

The illustrious dragon seraphim stretched.

“Let me guess,” Adagio said, his first words of the evening. “Your land is in some peril.” As he spoke, he held up his palm, and a flickering sphere of blue fire formed above it. “Some illness threatens the life of someone I could not care less about.” The orb danced around his fingers. “You seek a bridegroom, and you think I’d be an enchanting companion.” The witch laughed at his guessing. “Or perhaps, you wish to understand the secret behind the power I wield.”

The ball of fire flashed from Adagio’s playful fingers toward the woman. Her arm flew up, but at the last moment it stopped in the air before her, then burned itself out.

The witch righted herself, standing regal as ever. “I have no country, my lord,” she said. “I do not crave affection. And the power you wield, though fascinating, is quite the opposite of my own. All I wish, my lord, is a dance.”

Adagio shook out his wings to their full, wide span, then floated down. He landed a breath away from her. She stood her ground.

“All you wish is to dance?” he murmured.

“It has been a fancy of mine since I was young.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Adagio, but he held out his hand.

“You are wise.” The gray witch curtsied low, then took his hand.

Adagio twisted his mouth into a smile, then blue light flashed from his fingertips in the direction of the nearest frozen flautist. The poor musician, bathed in healing fire, blinked awake as if from a nightmare. “Play,” ordered Adagio, so the terrified man fitted his instrument against his lips, and a harrowing song poured from it. Adagio held his uninvited guest round her waist, and they began their eerie waltz.

The other guests could only watch in rooted terror as Adagio, who never bothered to walk, whirled the woman round the dance floor. They spun through the frills and flourishes, under the stars winking through the giant dragon’s ribs, until the song reached its haunting finale.

Heartache accompanies the end of such a dance, but the pain Adagio felt was not emotional. By the time he realized what the witch had done, she had slipped from his arms.

The Dark Parade reversed in panic. The guests, their blood coursing anew, trampled one another in flight. Fire faeries winked on and off. The harpies blew torrents of wind in efforts to escape. The witch easily disappeared in the mayhem, taking with her a memento: one of Adagio’s deep blue wing feathers.

Above the roaring chaos, Adagio’s laughter echoed into the night.


End file.
